


Buskerpants

by NoSleepUntilVacation



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Busking, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Slice of Life, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSleepUntilVacation/pseuds/NoSleepUntilVacation
Summary: Or: the one where Burgerpants bangs the drum all day.In between working at the theater and learning how to finally become an actor, Burgerpants takes some time to partake in his newest hobby.





	Buskerpants

As he walks down the downtown streets, he notices just how many cars speed by on this sunny afternoon. He hopes to god none of them recognize him from the Underground; if they do, he sincerely hopes they at least have the decency to call him Bryan. Word of mouth spreads quickly, and the people at his new workplace do not need to know anything about "Burgerpants".

Man... wouldn't it suck if Mettaton caught him doing this? He could just imagine it.

_He's sitting on a public bench, his two drumsticks banging away on the old plastic bucket, when a very familiar limo pulls up. As soon as one long, curvy leg emerges from it, he rolls his eyes. He, unfortunately, needs no introduction to this man._

_"Burgerpants, darling!" Mettaton walks up to him so casually, and he resists the urge to scoff. Did Mettaton hit his head or something? Because last time he remembered, he and Mettaton were anything but close friends._

_He doesn't want to start a fight right now, so he just looks up and offers a simple, neutral "Hey."_

_"I never knew you were a drummer!"_ Of course you didn't, _he thinks._ I didn't do this seriously until a few weeks ago! _But then, Mettaton has a strange smile on his face. "You know... our band happens to lack a percussionist."_

_In response, he leans back slightly and smirks. "Well, hope you find one. Good luck!" What could Mettaton do in response to that? Fire him? He hadn't worked for Mettaton since shortly after everyone moved to the surface, and it was gonna take way more than some long legs and a smile to convince him to return. "Fool me twice, shame on me" and all that._

_Besides, he thinks, if Mettaton knew what was running through his mind back when he only did this for fun, he would already know that it would be in his best interest to leave him alone._

Deciding not to continue with that fantasy, he finds an unassuming bench in the plaza near the local rec center. After sitting down, he takes the drumsticks out of his plastic bucket, flips the bucket over, sets down an empty coffee can nearby, and begins to play.

Some days back underground, when he was frustrated about the way Mettaton ran the MTT Resort, he would wait until he got home before pounding out a drum solo on whatever surface was most convenient for him. As he did so, he would imagine himself yelling things at Mettaton: "Burgers aren't made of sequins and glue! Fountains aren't supposed to spray water onto the floor! Restaurants don't make you reserve _everything_ in advance, just the tables!" He knew it technically wouldn't solve anything, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel cathartic.

It was just a few weeks ago that he'd received the push he needed to turn drumming into a serious hobby. One of his superiors at the theater had caught him wandering around, looking for a place to take his smoke break without violating any rules; they'd said something like "you know, smoking makes it hard for you to project your voice". When he in turn asked what he was supposed to do when he was stressed out, they suggested a number of things, before asking if he had any hobbies.

He remembered his occasional drumming, and how well it worked for helping him feel better after a bad day. Perhaps that would work as a more serious hobby; the thought of quitting smoking was still a bit crazy to think about, but his superior did have a point. Besides, even though he didn't know if his life would get anywhere (if you can't make it when working for the most famous celebrity your people know personally, when can you make it?), he figured he had nothing to lose if he gave it a try. At least his current superiors actually seemed to care about his dreams, unlike _some_ robots he would care not to mention.

And that's why he's sitting on a bench, pounding out some rhythms on a plastic bucket. He isn't doing anything too fast-paced or wild; there will be a time for that in the future. At the same time, his rhythms are just a little more complex than a simple metronomic beat. One minute it's _boom-boom-clap, boom-boom-boom clap,_ the next it's _boom boom clap-clap-clap boom-boom-boom-boom clap-clap_ , the hollow sounds rising up above the general noise. He experiments with hitting different parts of the bucket with different parts of the sticks to make different noises.

Some people just glance at him as they walk by. Others stop and listen for anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. He tries not to break his rhythm as he hears coins clatter into his coffee cup. Man... if he's getting a good response now, just wait until he gets _really_ good at it!

By the time he's done, he hasn't gotten a lot in tips, but at least it's something. As he packs up, he begins contemplating what else he could use as percussion; he could make an entire drum kit if he figured it out!

After continuing down the sidewalk, he comes across his next destination: the Nice Cream Parlor. By now, he's decided that he deserves something good after playing music in the sun, so he walks in.

The blue rabbit behind the counter instantly brightens up upon seeing him. "Bryan! Hi!"

He walks up to the counter (not getting in line because there's currently no line to get into) and smiles back, grateful for not being called "Burgy" or anything like that. "Hey, Freddy. I just did a pretty good job by the rec center."

Freddy's ears perk up somewhat. "That's great!" Since the only other people in here (another rabbit and a dragon) are sitting at a table completely lost in their own conversation, he continues. "If you perform just outside of here, it might attract more business!"

"Maybe one of these days." He lets out a dry laugh; is Freddy just concerned about attracting business, or does this also have to do with wanting to see his friend more often?

As usual, Freddy keeps smiling. "So, can I get you anything, or did you just want to say hi?"

He studies the menu. "Well..."

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe his life wasn't anywhere close to being the dead end he thought it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like writing fanfiction at three in the morning after a really long day, huh? Well anyway, this is the part where I go to bed. I hope what I wrote was at least somewhat comprehensible.


End file.
